


I Want You Bad

by My_Black_Crimson_Rose6



Series: Of Sex, Ink, and Skateboards [5]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dirty Talk, M/M, Phone Sex, Short One Shot, Tumblr Prompts, Underage because they're in highschool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 08:25:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4093960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6/pseuds/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wash is surprisingly good at phone sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want You Bad

“Locus,” the teen’s voice breathless—air puffing against the receiver. He could hear the rustle of clothing, of blankets as the blond on the other end spread himself out in bed. “Locus I need you,” he whined.

Locus’ eyes fluttered closed, his throat feeling dry—he couldn’t swallow, couldn’t speak as he listened to his boyfriend’s slick fingers _squwletch_ as he worked himself open. Locus gripped the crotch of his pants, licking at his lips with a too dry tongue.

Washington moaned, whimpering out his name as he fingered himself. _Shit_ , why did Locus have to suggest phone sex that night? _Why why why?!_

“I need you inside me,” he was too good at this; too good with his words and working himself open at the same time. “I want to feel your body. Your arms wrapped around me, pulling me in closer. I wanna feel your tongue in my mouth—wanna suck at that _fucking piercing_ , never want to stop.”

Locus’ head flopped back against his pillow and he ground up into his hand; so fucking hard as he pictured _his_ — _his_ David Washington fucking himself on his fingers, moaning those sweet sounds of his with Locus the only one on his mind.

“I’m adding the second finger—I wish it was you, I wish you were here working me open. Watching me squirm and moan—begging for your cock,” the hiss of breath signalling the other finger being added. Wash always made that same sound, always would take that one long breath as he bowed his back and his eyes fluttered closed. He’d bite at his bottom lip, fingers clenching and unclenching against the bed—on Locus’ arms—before moaning, whimpering out that soft little noise that would just _dive_ Locus _mad_.

And there it was—“I’ll be right over.” Locus shot up from the bed and pulled a sweater from the back of his chair, completely and utterly forgoing the shirt as he slipped on his shoes and grabbed his keys. “Keep working yourself open, I’m going to fuck you so _fucking hard_ when I get there.”

Wash groaned, “The backdoor is open—if not you know where the key is.”


End file.
